My dear, if you should go back home this Sunday, do bring a new evergreen branch with you. If I should actually still be here on the third day of Advent, the one I have here will be too dry and too liable to catch fire, so I’d like to replace it next Wednesday.
My dear, I actually don’t have anything left to say. I spend a lot of time thinking about how you and the little sons will fare after my death. How you’ll live. Actually I’m not the least bit worried about it. I just get the feeling that if you are able to come through my execution in good shape, “the bit of chaos” won’t daunt you either.3 And I feel certain that I can expect you to come through it in good shape, because I feel it’s so evident that of all my prayers, that is the one that God is most pleased to hear.
My love, I’ll stop now. Farewell, my very dear love. Will I see you again? I’m presumptuous, but I hope that I’m also grateful; in any case, I’m endeavoring to be grateful for the cornucopia of grace that has been poured out over us. But I’m embracing you. J.
1. Because of the food shortage, peas were a welcome gift.
2. An attempt to circulate information selectively in the vicinity of Kreisau in order to preempt negative propaganda from the Nazis.
3. This prediction would turn out to be entirely correct in 1945.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 7, 1944
Berlin, 7 Dec 44
My love, by local standards, this is certainly a wild night life; it’s definitely after 7 p.m., probably just before 8. I’m also quite tired already since I worked like mad today because I finished the written defense for the People’s Court; if Hercher doesn’t come in the foreseeable future, I’ll just send it off. Likewise, the letter to Himmler will go off unless I hear that Hercher will be returning in the foreseeable future, in which case I’d rather use him as a courier because otherwise I’m too afraid of the official channels. I’m actually quite satisfied with both written pleas: there is a great deal in them, even though they’re short, and maybe Herr Freisler will notice that the written plea reads better than the prosecution’s drivel. I also get the impression that the censors1 were quite content. If I have enough time tomorrow morning, you’ll get copies of both, so that you have everything.
And meanwhile my poor love is hard at work on behalf of her husband, always, always, in the certainty that it’s of no use and the feeling that everything has to be done anyway. When I think of all the errands you have to run, in a constant race from one to the other, while I do nothing but concoct my tiresome chores for you . . . Just don’t get your hopes up, my love.
It seems to me that the gentlemen at the People’s Court are already putting up a smoke screen about the issues, and one day they will spring it upon us. But tomorrow I’ll get updated information: I would greatly appreciate it being extended beyond Christmas, in which case I might be able to incorporate the Saar region into the number of territories in which my form of resistance ought to be blossoming now.2 At any rate, new arguments could keep coming my way as time goes on. After all, the Alsace-Lorraine situation has arisen in just the past three weeks, and that already sounds better than only Eupen-Malmedy and Aachen.3
Tell me, my dear, you keep coughing up bacon and geese and butter and chickens and eggs and sugar, etc., etc., etc., for your husband, indirectly and directly. Aren’t you starving as a result? That was all fine and good when we thought this whole thing would last three weeks, but it’s been going on for two months now, and it can’t continue this way. Don’t you at least want to do your part by cutting back what the glutton himself gets? He really can get by with less, he wouldn’t need, for example, eggs, butter, chicken, and would be very well-fed with just honey and sausage and an apple every once in a while.—The coffee was wonderful. I now always drink half of it warm and leave the other half for Thursday morning. It’s still very good even when it’s cold, and besides, it doesn’t really interfere with my sleep. You still have enough coffee, don’t you?
When I look at the people I’ll be sentenced along with—I’m counting Delp as well—it seems safe to say that there could hardly be any other team of eight in this complex that is such a patent example of “positive Christianity”; even Haubach rejoined the Protestant Church a year ago and received Holy Communion from Gerstenmaier at that time. Steltzer, Gerstenmaier, and I provide a good representation of the Protestants, and Delp and Reisert of the Catholics; at the same time, everyone knows that Rösch is missing there, because they don’t have him,4 and that one Protestant and four Catholic bishops are very well disposed toward us. Taken together, it’s better after all than being killed with Goerdeler and his people; these are all quite silly considerations, of course, but I’m mulling over how our death, if the dear Lord has ordained it, can at least be capitalized on, and that is possible in this manner. One just needs to underline this clearly, and it’s the Catholics especially who must do so.
Now, my dear, I just want to eat my stewed fruit, which I’ve had soaking in water. I’ll write you tomorrow to let you know whether that worked. And then I’ll go to bed. May God watch over you, my dear love, and us. And He will do so; we can, we may, no: we must rely on it. J.
1. He is presumably referring to Dix and Poelchau, who had reviewed the draft defense.
2. The Allied offensive on the French border into Germany.
3. Western areas near the Rhine that had been captured by the Allies.
4. Rösch had gone into hiding after July 20, 1944; see Helmuth’s letter of November 4–5, 1944.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 8, 1944
Friday morning
My dearest, it’s 6:15. I’m with the friends, but I already know that I won’t have enough time to write everything I wanted to by the time Poelchau goes. Last night I got another little letter that was so lovely and so long, and I’d like to say so much about all of it. Yesterday morning, after I came back from seeing Hercher, I should have written right away, I had time until 3, but I had all sorts of other things to do and to write, of an urgent nature, and afterward I slept for an hour. I’ve had some lack of sleep this week, and I have to catch up on that as soon as I can: last night I went out at about ten with Brigitte [Gerstenmaier] because she needed to go, and we first got stuck at the Friedrichstr. station for fifty minutes, but halfway there we came to a complete stop because of an unexploded bomb on the tracks and then had to make our way to Lichterfelde Ost by way of detours, and mainly on foot, well guided by two friendly railway workers who were headed the same way. We got there at 1, and at 6:30 I had to leave so I could get to Hercher in time with my goose on my back. You’ll be most interested in how that went: He told me quite a lot, holding nothing back. He happily indulges in that guilty pleasure of old people, talking up a storm. He told me a good deal about the Goerdeler issue, which he considered the most dangerous. The way I see it, he has the exact picture of you that he needs to have: he considers your ideas highly impractical—in particular he deems impossible any involvement of the church and finds all of this to be pipe dreams (my term, not his), but he regards you as a pure idealist utterly devoid of ambition and far from any interest in striving for some sort of power. This is true. He has also worked hard on your documentation already, but hasn’t gotten through the notes about the Goerdeler issue. He’s not making a copy of the indictment, but he said: I have to go there again so he can read it once more. It looks as though he will be defending Delp as well. We have to ensure that he lets you read the indictment when he comes for his first visit with Delp. After that I went to see Poelchau’s friend, a physician. She has eight children, seven of whom are alive, and a thriving practice. She prescribed something for external and internal use, which I’ll pick up today; but when I asked about the stimulant’s effects, she also gave me a stern warning: it does pep you up and generates a kind of need for self-affirmation, but at the same time strips away any inhibitions about speaking. The Russians gave a similar substance to the accused in their marathon trials! So you’re not going to get it, even though I alre
ady have it in my pocket. “I hate that stuff,” she said, and she makes quite a formidable impression.—Oddly enough, I was already concentrating on your latest project, concerning the air raids,1 but actually in a purely negative vein. If it’s unsuccessful, it spells your immediate death, and I consider it very likely to fail. The fact that I was so fearful of the consequences of an instantaneous death made me realize once again that behind my back, my level of hope has risen quite high again, in defiance of my own will. It’s the old, difficult, difficult art of keeping it at the right level. The Henssels no longer have an apartment in Berlin. As far as I know, Frau Sarre2 has a house full of Rhinelanders, but I’ll find that out. It’s possible that they would put half a million on your head!3 After all, you’ve seen that this almost always works. In short, I’m afraid, but maybe I’ll think of something better and my fear will subside. You’re awfully conspicuous.4
My love, how good we still have it, how close we are to each other. How wonderful that is! I love you very much and I am and will forever remain your P.
1. Freya refers obliquely to the idea, which Helmuth had probably discussed with Poelchau, to attempt to break out of the prison in the chaos of a bomb attack and go underground.
2. The wife of Helmuth’s former law partner, Friedrich Carl Sarre.
3. Goerdeler tried to evade capture following the July 20 bomb-plot failure and was found when a price was put on his head.
4. Helmuth was six feet five inches tall.
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 8, 1944
Friday noon
My love, I’m so relieved that you’re now unshackled; it must really help your poor body relax, especially during the night.—You’re quite right about the gifts of the spirit. We are absolutely in the ranks of the rich and so we have a very tough time of it.—I also liked the meagerness of the evergreen branch.—I’m now filled with hope that you won’t have the trial before Christmas. Who would have thought that possible in early October!
Of course you’re fearful about the trial, my dear. I shudder to think what that means for you and what the day will take out of you, but, my Jäm, I know that you can ride it out with God’s help; I don’t even know myself what “ride it out” might mean in this case, but the day will reveal that. I recently read a sermon by Gollwitzer, a friend of Poelchau, and found in it, essentially, the idea that if you fear someone, that person becomes the master of the fearing individual. Too bad I can’t find the text right now. I found it quite illuminating and encouraging. But the very idea that Freisler is your master is absolutely out of the question!—Now Poelchau has gone as well.—By the way, I, like you, find everything having to do with the approaching trial quite daunting and sad, but, my love, we must let ourselves be borne along and believe and know that we’re not alone. But we tremble at our own weakness, oh, my love.—I don’t think that Prinz-Albrecht-Str. will be especially horrible; Poelchau doesn’t think so either.
Just like you, I was afraid that it was just smoke and mirrors about the trial, but I don’t think that’s the case. Yes, if only it would take quite a long time!—I would be distraught if I voluntarily deprived you of the tiniest little bit. Bacon and sausage are all still from the old pig; the new one is already waiting to be slaughtered.1 A small number of the young chickens are already laying eggs, so I have eggs. The chickens had to be dead before the December 4 count.2 My household ate a good ten chickens. They eat their fill and the cooking is good and solid; there’s no place for luxury. You’ve been eating my butter for close to a year, and that is a source of my happiness; don’t spoil it for me. I was quite sad when I had so much butter to eat in Sept. I sometimes eat butter here, most of the time, in fact, at the expense of the household, I can’t do anything about that. They’re not in prison, and in town they would only have half anyway. The children get plenty. The Borsigs donated a big bag of sugar—you’ve had some of that, too—so it wasn’t much of an accomplishment on my part. Yes, I still have tea and coffee. I’m trying to conserve, but the reserves are of course shrinking bit by bit.
Today I also ate dried stewed fruit for lunch. I hadn’t read that you had made some for yourself, and said to the Poelchaus, “Helmuth ate the same stewed fruit today”; but that was yesterday.
My Jäm, the day before yesterday Thiele told Hercher that the case would be coming up before Christmas! That needn’t be correct, but it could be, and Brigitte [Gerstenmaier] has to go to see Thiele on Tuesday after all. How can this all make sense?! Once again, it really got under my skin. It’s also quite unpleasant for me to be worrying you with this. The truth is that you have to be prepared. Hercher thought he’ll find out more on Monday. He told me all kinds of things besides this. He had the petition for clemency at home, and we went there together. He also said something that seemed important to me: With Freisler, you can always tell how serious things are right from the start. In general, the sentence is passed before it starts, so it is even more vital that he gets the second defense statement beforehand. That has to go out, as does the letter to Himmler.—My Jäm, my love, my beloved, how will this all go for you! My heart trembles, but I’m confident. Above all, we need to remain where we are in good hands and submit to God’s will. Sleep well, my dearest. Good night.
1. Agricultural operations were subject to monitoring of what was consumed on the premises. Authorization was required to slaughter a pig. Pork was an important nutritional element in Kreisau, and the slaughtering of pigs and their consumption had to be planned out carefully.
2. There were limits on how many chickens could be kept privately at certain dates.
HELMUTH JAMES TO FREYA, DECEMBER 8, 1944
Berlin, 8 Dec 44
Yes, my dear, the major additional difficulty signified by the emergence of a glimmer of human or quasi-human hope is indeed major, oddly major. Death is no longer as much of a natural and familiar and thus dear companion as it was before. That’s a great pity, because it means that when I want to—or have to—confront it once more, I’ll have to battle my way there all over again. We joyfully accept God’s will when it seems to suit our plans, but surrendering to a path that is unpleasant for the flesh is far more difficult. That may be an exaggerated way of putting it, but unfortunately there’s quite a bit of truth to it.
In the face of all this confusion, there is only one firm position to keep coming back to: For God, everything is possible. If He wants to preserve me, He can do so in a hundred ways without our having any inkling in advance, and if He wants to call me to Him, He will let a bomb fall down onto my head once my acquittal seems a sure thing. If we were able to keep this awareness, which frees us from the whims of Herr Freisler or the random chance of a petition for clemency or something similar, ever present and vivid in our minds, we would be a crucial step ahead. But the impulse to work on the “hopes” muddies the issue and keeps creating turmoil in our hearts. We are nothing more than a very big dung heap, and in a situation like this, we relearn that time and again. Anything that is not bad within us is already an act of grace, and this awareness would be a great deal more beautiful if it were always within our grasp. But even that is unattainable.—Enough moaning and groaning, my love; all this doesn’t torment me—unfortunately—as much as it really ought to.
Of the issues I’ve touched on in earlier letters, I just want to remind you of these: propaganda,1 Peters, Steltzer, Husen.2—In the end, I think we have to ensure that our attorneys work together, and each of us has to tell his attorney that he may not gain advantages at the expense of a codefendant. But it is even more important for the attorneys to coordinate their activities and exchange information about the defense. In any case, I will require Hercher to do so, and this issue has already been discussed with Fugger and Eugen [Gerstenmaier], so you need to win over only Lehrter Strasse.3 So, my love, my dearest. I imagine you’re at the friends’ home by now, where I know that you are safe, and I’ll go have a snooze. Are grains of wheat always this intractable under such circumstances when they are to be l
owered into the earth?4 In spite of it all, I do know that His will is good and for our salvation and that I want to submit to it joyfully; I also believe that when the time comes, I will not be found wanting.
1. He is referring to the propaganda in the village of Gräditz.
2. The information for Theodor Steltzer, who was being held in the Gestapo prison, and his Kreisau friends Hans Peters and Paulus van Husen, who did not have a trial impending yet.
3. His codefendants Theodor Haubach, Theodor Steltzer, and Franz Sperr were held in the Lehrter Strasse prison.
4. An allusion to John 12:24: “Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die, it abideth alone: but if it die, it bringeth forth much fruit.”
FREYA TO HELMUTH JAMES, DECEMBER 9, 1944
Saturday afternoon
My dear, I haven’t read your letter yet, but I did get it and am still sitting on my buried treasure, full of happiness. I’ve just arrived at the friends’ house and don’t have very much time left. It’s 4:45 and at 6:02 my train leaves from Zoo. On the way here, I was able to fit in a quick talk with Frl. Schellhase. She brought Haubach’s answer. She would like once again to inform Hercher about your line of defense in somewhat more detail. Can you write up a brief note about it? I will include the papers for you. It all refers to Goerdeler, and the attorneys seem to regard only that issue as dangerous. Write a little note to Steltzer too, with what you want to say. I’ll type it up.—Now I’ve had a chance to read your beautiful letter. My poor love, how stressful it is for you. Eugen [Gerstenmaier]’s absolute certainty makes it easier on him.1 But I don’t approve of it. My dear, you’re totally justified in having all this going on inside you, and you mustn’t judge yourself too harshly. The good Lord knows that, too, that we are poor and weak people, but He is prepared to reside within us!—I have to stop. I’ll be there again soon. My love stays here, as do all my thoughts. How I love you, my dear! I am and will remain yours. P.
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